and so they go on
by pumpkinpaperweight
Summary: long before tedros, there was hester. and long before anadil, there was agatha. not lady a. not yet. just agatha. - 1920s AU oneshot, set mostly before the events of GMTG. agaster centric, side tagatha and hestadil.


"We oughta take him for a ride."

"Ain't you got _any _other tactics aside from shootin' people?"

They're in Agatha's bed in the small hours of the morning, talking tactics and trying to ignore the real reason Hester's there. It's not the usual one. Agatha would prefer it to be, but Hester doesn't usually have to shatter the lock to Agatha's bedroom with the butt of her pistol if she wants in.

Hester doesn't respond. Agatha, eyes screwed shut and mouth in a grim line, can only guess at her expression, but it's probably not impressed-

"Does that happen a lot?" Hester demands, taking a leap back into the current taboo topic. As is typical, she sounds more harsh than anxious, but Agatha can hear the undercurrent anyway.

"Mind your apples." Says Agatha testily. Hester ignores the command.

"You ain't ever woken me up with it." She presses.

Agatha remains silent. Truthfully, she tends to _pretend_ to sleep when Hester's with her, for that exact reason.

She finds herself mangling the sheet in her fist, and stops quickly, but Hester's already noticed. Agatha feels the mattress sink as she kneels over her.

"We got you painkillers from the sawbones, me an' Sophie. If you'd just-"

"_No, Hester._" snarls Agatha, far more unpleasantly than she'd meant to, as Hester comes too close to her hip and it howls its protest. Hester jerks back immediately.

"I'm sorry, did I-"

"It's fine. It's-" with considerable effort, Agatha puts out her good arm and snags Hester's shirt. "-fine, come an' sit here-"

"You're all over the place." Murmurs Hester, shuffling over despite herself. "We ain't given you sepsis tryna get the bullets out? Or somethin'?"

"I'd know if I had sepsis." Says Agatha dismissively. Hester doesn't say anything, but she carefully shifts Agatha's head into her lap. Agatha gets the distinct impression she's still waiting for an answer to her earlier question. She doesn't particularly want to give one.

Hester seems to decide to grab the bull by the horns.

"So, what, you only _sometimes _scream yourself hoarse in the middle of the night?"

If Agatha wasn't in so much pain, she'd have taken a swipe at her.

"Don't be a bastard, Hester, I ain't in the mood."

"It was a serious question." says Hester thinly.

"The answer, as you said, is _sometimes." _snaps Agatha. "Why should you care?"

"Ain't someone disagreeable, tonight? Why _shouldn't _I care?"

When Agatha doesn't come up with an answer, she snorts, and leans down to press a careful kiss to her temple.

"I'm gonna go and get the painkillers."

"Like hell you are."

"What are you gonna do, follow me?" Hester sets Agatha's head back on the pillow and slides off the bed.

"I don't want the damn painkillers!"

"Well, you're gettin' em, because I doubt you've slept properly in weeks, lookin' at the state of your eyes. You been gettin' Beatrix to make you up? Cause I never-"

"You're not _leavin' _me in here!" Agatha lurches upright, and Hester lunges for her, alarmed.

"What are you _doin', _you sap? Lie down, for christ's sake-"

It's only after she's forced Agatha to lie back down that she seems to realise what Agatha actually said.

She looks at her.

"Why didn't you just _say _that?"

It's a pointless question, given they both know Agatha isn't particularly forthright when it comes to personal things.

Agatha can't shrug, so she doesn't do much. The suggestion of weak sunlight is playing around the edge of the curtains.

"Well, then." murmurs Hester, after a pause. She yanks off her shoes and scrabbles back onto the mattress beside Agatha. She's careful not to touch her, but stays close, close enough for Agatha to hear her breathing, feel the warmth of her body, and notice every tiny movement she makes.

She doesn't sleep, though. Every time Agatha jerks out of her fitful doze, she can see her, watching her silently from under her arm.

She's still awake when Agatha struggles out of the fog of a heavy, confusing, dream in the morning.

* * *

They go on raids, and stay up plotting for hours. Try the shipments and get stupid and poke fun at everything and kiss in the bathroom when they were just about to make an attempt at looking presentable again. Give each other tattoo ideas. Give each other tattoos (Well. Once. It got infected. They didn't try it again.) They stay in bed for hours. Wind Sophie up on purpose. Everything. Nothing, really.

* * *

There's more people to trust, now. Beatrix has brought Reena, and together they make Gavaldon roar with enthusiasm, every night. Agatha thinks they should expand. There's an old spa looking for a new owner, Dot tells her. Chaddick proves to be an excellent bodyguard, several times over. Nicola presents herself to Agatha, looking for a… _specific type _of job, and almost immediately is given control of Bartleby's. Hester and Sophie have misgivings, but Agatha has none. She's right. Nicola is an excellent choice.

She's rarely wrong.

She was wrong once.

She won't be wrong again.

No matter how Hester and Sophie worry.

She's learned her lesson.

She buys the spa, and the apartment above it. It'll be their biggest club yet. Sophie wants it, of course she does. Agatha will have to move Nicola to head Gavaldon, then. No matter. She'll manage it fine.

They'll manage it fine.

In fact, they're managing it more than fine. If Agatha wasn't so careful, she might even say they were doing _well. _

She says as much to Hester, one night.

"You're so _prudent." _Hester snorts. "Ain't you noticed you're turnin' into somethin' of an urban legend?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Mutters Agatha.

"I'm not. You're turnin' up places less and less, but your reach is gettin' further and further. People get anxious when you're around. You saw all those girls starin' at you."

"No, _you _saw them and got jealous, which is why they all looked scared stiff."

Hester scowls.

"I was only jealous initially. Then I realised that they were lookin' at you cause they knew who you were."

"I don't think so." Agatha scoffs. "Not as if I was wearin' a nametag-"

But Hester cuts her off.

"I'm right. You'll see that I'm right. You're gettin' a reputation. You don't need a _nametag, _Agatha. People can tell. There's lotsa little things."

"Oh, lay off."

"There is." Hester props herself up on her elbow and leans over her. "All those expensive suits. Fancy tie pins. Scars. Limp. You look young, younger than all the other snake-charmers. There's only one of em that's _like_ that. You're infamous."

Agatha looks hard at her, but it's clear she's not joking.

"Well," she says. "I can work with that."

"Truth be told, I think it's hot." says Hester.

"_Do _you." sighs Agatha. Hester grins, wicked, tracing the tattoos on Agatha's shoulder and down her arm. The rose, the panther, the pocketwatch.

"Sure do."

She leans down.

And so they go on.

* * *

And then, there's Anadil.

Alabaster Anadil, with that curtain of white hair, straight, small nose, long hands and scarlet eyes that seared. Tall. Graceful. Low, quiet voice. Never raised it. Never needed to. Lady A's finest enforcer.

_Agatha's_ worst enemy

Hester's infatuated, see. Of course she is. Who wouldn't be? She tries to hide it, but Agatha catches her stealing glances almost every day. She can't blame her. Next to Anadil, Agatha looks… looks… just looks _worse._ Crooked fingers and broken nose, sallow, standing lopsided, limping, scowling, scattered with scars. Dark, dull hair and sharp, dark shadowed eyes.

Besides, she and Hester had been fighting, as of late. Drifting apart a little. Agatha's been busy- well. _Lady A _has been busy. Too busy. Suddenly, it seems that there's a lot less Agatha than there used to be. And Hester's been struggling with taking orders from her. She claims she'll get used to it, but Agatha isn't sure. Not to mention how they've been getting on each other's nerves and finding things to nitpick, disagreeing with the other's plans and ignoring each other most nights. Agatha supposes it's inevitable. They aren't exactly a couple. They aren't exactly _not _a couple, either. She doesn't know _what_ they are.

It doesn't stop her being upset, though. She's never thought of herself as a jealous person until now, but it's clear that she very much is. Hester stops following her around. Makes it her mission to _show Anadil the ropes_.

Agatha sits alone in the club and sulks, watching Hester, Anadil and Dot drink and laugh and gossip without her. They've formed something of a partnership, the three of them. If Agatha was feeling bitter (which she is) she'd call it a _coven. _

Hmm.

Maybe there's something in that.

* * *

They love it, because of course they do. An infamous-sounding name for an infamous trio. Anadil laughs her low, quiet laugh and tells her that it's clever. Agatha is glad for Lady A's coolness, then, because she couldn't have smiled if she'd been told to do it with a gun to her head, not with how Hester is looking at Anadil, and how Dot follows them down the corridor with barely a goodbye to the woman who'd been there long before either of them.

The whole point of Anadil is that she notices everything, though. That's why Lady A values her so highly.

"Everythin' alright, boss?"

Agatha barely lifts her eyes from her papers.

"Sure." _No. _"Why'd you ask?"

Despite everything, she finds it easier to be polite to Anadil than she ever does with Hester or Sophie or any of the others. She thinks maybe her cool attitude tends to influence those around her.

She'd probably be a good match for Hester, then-

_Oh, shut up. _

"Dunno." Anadil's red eyes flicker slightly. "Just a feelin'. You know?"

So she'd heard Agatha and Hester screaming at each other last night, then.

"Not really." Lies Agatha.

"Right." Anadil fiddles with her hat for a second, then shoves it back on. The black looks striking against her white hair. "Sure. Never mind, then."

She turns to leave, pulls open the door.

"Anadil?"

Oh, Hester's in the corridor, of course she is, of _course-_

"Hi, Hes." It's impossible to miss the softening of her voice. Or the nickname. "You here to see the boss?"

A pause.

"Yeah. I guess." Says Hester. It sounds forced. Agatha stabs her pen into her signature too hard, and puts a hole in the paper.

Anadil mutters some sort of goodbye, shoots one last apprehensive glance over her shoulder, and is gone.

Hester appears in the doorway. Agatha screws up the ruined sheet and hurls it over her shoulder, in the very vague direction of the wastepaper basket. She's seconds away from saying something incredibly petty, but it's not fair, so she can't, and she _won't_.

Hester stands in the doorway and looks at her.

Agatha stares back. She doesn't say anything. She's not sure she can.

For a second, it seems Hester's poised to say something. But then she doesn't.

"She's lovely." says Agatha quietly.

Hester casts a helpless glance over her shoulder, looking back the way Anadil had gone.

"Agatha-" She stops. It's too obvious, and they both know it.

"Yeah." she says, finally. "She is."

Agatha nods slowly, staring unseeingly at the papers.

"I'm sorry." says Hester.

Agatha doesn't respond.

"Be here after the show." she says finally. "Bring Anadil. And Dot. I got somethin' to discuss with the three of you."

"Business?" asks Hester flatly.

"What else?" says Lady A.

And so they go on.

* * *

They get past it, of course. If nothing else, they know how to settle their differences. It doesn't stop Agatha feeling crushingly lonely, though. She gets a cat, who hates everyone but her. It's unfortunately familiar, but Hester sees the funny side.

"Got a thing for tempermental bastards, ain't you?" she says gleefully, holding one of Reaper's toys above his head as he yowls furiously.

"Don't be mean to him." sighs Agatha. Hester drops the toy on Reaper's head. Reaper hisses, affronted, and leaps onto Agatha's desk for sympathy.

Hester looks up, grinning, and opens her mouth to say something-

Anadil is in the doorway, and whatever it was is forgotten as she hauls herself to her feet and goes to join her. Agatha lets it lie.

The door closes.

Reaper hisses again, belatedly.

"I know what you mean." mutters Agatha.

But despite her obvious infatuation, Hester doesn't _do anything. _And neither does Anadil. Agatha gets the impression Anadil is waiting for Hester to get her act together.

_Well, she'll be disappointed, _she thinks bitterly one night. Agatha had basically had to tell Hester how _Hester _felt.

God knows what it would take for Hester to actually work it out herself.

* * *

And so they go on. Club Avalon is a huge success. Lady A is a shadowy, mysterious figure. Admired, feared, filthy rich. How well it has all turned out for her. How sly she must be. How astute. How unsentimental.

She's been avoiding the clubs, mostly because she runs the risk of getting shot at, and Hester and Sophie are very paranoid about that now, but also because she needs to make sure that things actually run without her there.

They do, thank god. Nicola and Sophie know what they're doing. Hester, Anadil and Dot are around just enough to establish a reputation, and absent just enough to make people paranoid about what they're doing.

She reads about herself in the papers. Apparently she's got agents in the White House (she hasn't) and is going to try to kill the President (she isn't). Fascinating, what these people make up. But she doesn't mind. It gives her less work to do, as far as she's concerned. People are spreading rumours _for _her, now.

Well, good. One less job to do. Not that she minds being busy. It's a good excuse. She's busy, so Sophie can stop trying to pair her off with any vaguely good-looking person who crosses her path. She's busy, so she can't go with Hester and Anadil on their heist, it's too risky anyway, and you two are perfectly competent on your own...

She becomes more and more reclusive. Jumps from property to property, always working, always overseeing, constantly vigilant. No time for anythin' Sophie, no time for anythin', Hester, you gotta do this for me, thanks, doll, and then she gets back from Chicago and Sophie's hired a _Pendragon-_

And then there's _Tedros_.

Impetuous Tedros, swanning through the world without a care, trailing pearls and jewels and laddered stockings and getting into fight after fight after fight. Between the perfume and the passionate outbursts, he gives Agatha a headache- at least, until he proves to be extremely helpful.

And extremely charismatic.

She messes it all up, obviously_._

But Tedros doesn't want to be driven away, so he isn't. He might have got a bullet in his leg and maybe he can never dance again, and maybe he went and took swift, violent revenge on Rhian, but he's still there when she gets back, and he's angry as all hell and cries all his makeup off, but he's still _there. _

That's never happened before.

* * *

"He's so… glossy." says Hester disapprovingly, lurking in the wings of the Avalon stage.

"Oh, shut up." growls Agatha, watching Tedros onstage. "And stop scowling, you're scaring the chorus girls."

"No, _you're_ scarin' them, turnin' up in the wings like this."

Agatha ignores her, staring intently at Tedros's bad leg.

"He ain't gonna fall over and knock his head in." snaps Hester. "You told him not to dance, so he ain't gonna."

"I ain't so sure." murmurs Agatha.

"Well, be sure. He'll listen to you, even if he says he won't."

"Why should he?" says Agatha tersely.

"Because he loves you?" offers Hester. "And therefore has a modicum of respect for what you have to say?"

Agatha purses her lips, doubtful.

"_Sophie _listens to you for that reason." points out Hester. "So do I."

"Don't let Anadil hear you say that." says Agatha thinly. Hester rolls her eyes.

"You know what I mean. Platonic."

"It wasn't platonic when you snuck into my bedroom every night-"

"I mean _now, _you pedant. Stop dodging the sentiment."

Agatha remains silent. Hester sighs.

"Look-"

Agatha cuts her off.

"I know, Hester." she softens slightly. "Thank you."

She's not looking at her, but she fancies Hester is pleased-

"He's still a terrible match for you, just sayin'."

Agatha turns to glare at her. Hester shrugs.

"I was better."

"_Were _you."

"Yeah, I was. I oughta tell him so, actually, here he comes, hey, Tedros-"

"_You say that to him and I'll murder you." _Snarls Agatha, as Tedros finishes waving and comes limping over, carrying yet more flowers. Usually he'd laugh it off, but she's harbouring suspicions he's still slightly more inclined to the _emotionally fragile _side of things, at the moment.

"Why?"

"Tell you later-"

"You're here!"

Tedros comes wobbling up to them, heavy-lidded stage eyes replaced with the puppy-dog earnestness that makes Agatha want to kiss him for a year.

"Was that alright? I nearly fell over when I got on that table but I don't think anyone noticed- oh. Hi, Hester."

Hester acknowledges him with a grunt. Tedros looks hopefully at Agatha.

"Yeah, it was real great." says Agatha quickly, shooting Hester a _talk and I'll rip your jaw off _look. "Want me to take those flowers?"

"No, no, I'll take them to my dressing room- are you coming?"

Agatha can tell Hester is dying to say something. She's tempted to go, kiss the life out of Tedros for half an hour or so, then turn back up covered in lipstick, just to wind Hester up, but she can see Tedros's leg twitching slightly. He's more tired than he looks.

"I gotta talk to Hester first." she says. Tedros looks disappointed, and she adds quickly; "I'll be along in a bit, though. Go an' sit down."

"Right, okay, see you later-"

Tedros plants a lipstick mark on Agatha's cheekbone and goes tottering down the stage steps, Agatha watching him carefully until he reaches the bottom and disappears down the corridor.

"I think I know what you were gonna say." mutters Hester as soon as he's gone.

"What?"

"Very desperate for approval, ain't he? Feels… fragile."

"He'll be fine." says Agatha defensively, even though that was exactly what she'd been thinking.

"Yeah, sure he will." mutters Hester. "Thick-skinned as all hell. Everythin' just bounces off him. Apart from bullets, apparently."

She gets smacked for that.

"Damn, alright, just kiddin'-" Hester shoves Agatha away from her, both aware they're being stared at by a young stagehand. "But I talked to him yesterday."

Agatha must look horrified, because Hester backtracks.

"An _actual_ talk, not one of _my _talks-"

"Which should be called _hits-"_

"_Anyway, _I have decided that I tolerate him. Despite not actually liking him, nor thinking him a good match, I will allow him to be present."

"How generous of you." says Agatha thinly.

Hester smiles.

"I was first."

"That doesn't mean _anythin'!"_

"It means everythin', doll. Shall we get outta here before we get run over by the hoardes of flappers leavin' the stage?"

Agatha absently takes Hester's arm and lets her lead her down the stairs, feeling faintly endeared and also faintly irritated

"I told him if he did anything out of line I'd strangle him with his pearls."

"_Hester!"_

"He told me to fuck off."

"That's my boy."

"I only let _you _do that." Mutters Hester.

"And Anadil." says Agatha.

"And Anadil." admits Hester.

She smiles, a little.

And so they go on.


End file.
